Nothing But Time
by IxAmxProngs
Summary: Ginny's worklife? Infuriating. Her personal life? Nonexistent. But as an unexpected person slowly weeds his way into her life, will things get better or just more complicated? Only time will tell. Not DH compatible.
1. Brighter Days Ahead

Ginny Weasley woke up to the detestable, blaring sound of her alarm clock. She groaned, cursing angrily to herself as she felt blindly over her bedside table for the alarm clock so that she could turn the damned thing off. "Stupid bloody work at this stupid bloody hour of the stupid bloody day," she muttered crossly to herself, her voice thick with phlegm. Her lack of creative adjectives, however, did not allow her any more sleep, nor did it shut off that infernal alarm clock. It was time to wake up up, crawl out from under the warmth of the covers, and force herself to go to work.

Just like every morning.

So she blearily opened her eyes, rubbing the sleep from them with balled fists. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wobbling unsteadily for a moment before heading into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, her daily sustenance. She mixed some ground cinnamon in with the coffee grounds and shut the lid, flicking the switch on as she headed groggily to the bathroom, yawning widely as she went.

She twisted the knob for the shower and undressed. She stepped quickly under the torrent of searing water, sighing contentedly as the hot water assailed her, which succeeded in waking her up somewhat more than the alarm clock had. Once she was finished she wrapped a towel about herself, trudging back into her bedroom to get dressed for work. She chose a pair of black slacks and a white tank-top to wear to work itself before she had to put over it the deep blue robes of an Auror. She retreated back into the bathroom to get dressed, also taking the time to brush her teeth, pull up her long claret hair, and apply minimal makeup.

She strode back into the kitchen of her small two-bedroom apartment and poured herself a rich, steaming cup of fresh cinnamon coffee, to which she added two spoonfuls of sugar and a precise, mentally-calculated amount of milk topped off with a thin layer of whipped cream. She closed her eyes as she tilted the cup to her lips. Perfect. She finished off the coffee quickly and carried the cup to the sink. She glanced at the wall clock, which read that it was fifteen minutes until seven. Time to go.

So after making sure she had her work things gathered, she stood in the living room, turning swiftly upon the spot into the compressing blackness of Apparating.

She arrived at work with ten minutes to spare, but she knew that it wasn't enough. She would have been chastised if she was even an hour early, let alone ten mere minutes until they had to get to work. She went into the dingy lady's bathroom that was the employee entrance to the Ministry of Magic, chose a stall at random, and flushed herself down the toilet.

"This is what happens when your ex-boyfriend is also your boss," Ginny thought to herself, teeth gritted as she pushed through the crowd of Ministry workers as she entered the Auror department, trying desperately to make it to her cubicle before Harry saw her. But as luck would have it, he was standing right outside the tiny, walled-off section of floor space that was her cubicle. Lovely.

She clenched her fist and went to move past him into her cubicle, but he blocked her way.

"Running late, are we? I thought I told you what would happen if you didn't start making an effort to show up on time," he said with a smirk that was worthy of a Malfoy. He was clearly trying to goad her into getting angry with him, trying to get her to lose control and show that he could still get to her. But she wouldn't give him that satisfaction, not for anything.

"Late?" she replied coolly. "I believe I still have at least five minutes, _Harry."_

Despite the fact that they had known each other for over a decade, and they'd been through hell and back together, his eyes still flashed behind his round glasses when she said his name, as though the terms of their breakup had obviously required that she not speak to him with that level of informality. He recovered himself quickly, however, readjusting the round black glasses that he still wore, even so many years since they had gone to Hogwarts, since Ginny had still thought she loved him…

He stepped gallantly aside, gesturing mockingly for her to go ahead and enter. She glared at him, muttering something along the lines of, "Bitter, are we?" as she moved past him into the five square feet of space she had been allotted. He didn't hear her, however, which was all for the best. He was her boss, after all, and she still had to treat him with respect. This was a good job for her, and one that she had studied her arse off to get into. She wasn't going to let it be ruined just because of her and Harry's break up. It wasn't worth it; she would have to learn to keep her tongue under check, even though, being as headstrong as she was, it would be undoubtedly difficult.

She set her files for the particular cases she was assigned to upon her desk, organizing it all before sitting down to review the files. Since Voldemort's defeat nearly six years ago, the main conquest for the Auror department had been to round up the remaining Death Eaters. In the past six years, most of them had been caught, with only a few remaining. To Ginny's credit were the successful acquisitions of Malfoy Senior, Yaxley, and Lestrange, among other slightly less consequential cases. Three major captures all in her name, the first capture being only a few months after she'd first started as an Auror. If one thing stood as fact, it was that she was damn good at what she did. But ever since she had broken up with Harry, her cases had gotten lower and lower in priority until now she was reduced to taking on such cases as a harmless (but admittedly elusive) lunatic that had taken to setting the Dark Mark off at random places across Britain. Harry's pettiness infuriated her, but she took it anyway: What choice did she have? Hell, even Draco Malfoy, (who for whatever reason had chosen to become an Auror after the defeat of You-Know-Who) had better cases than she did, and he was Harry's archenemy!

She sighed wearily and prepared herself for a day of interminable boredom. Her current case was to track down a senile old man called Madalpho Dorrin who had been illegally brewing the Polyjuice Potion (indeed, Harry had blushed when handing her the report due to his own illegal experiences with the Polyjuice Potion) in order to pose as a dancer in a nightclub. Ginny laughed bitterly to herself. While the whole case was quite comical, it was also utterly ridiculous. She had three major Death Eater captures under her belt. Three, and here she was on this sort of case just because Harry was a stubborn arse that couldn't accept that things were never meant to be between them!

She scanned over the case, forcing her mind to concentrate upon the mundane details. With what she had, she should be able to apprehend him soon; according to the witnesses, he was rather hard to miss. The only problem was that few respectable witnesses were willing to come forward and admit that they had been in a nightclub to witness the old man drinking Polyjuice Potion as soon as his head started going bald on the dance floor. It had already been hell to obliviate all the muggles that had seen it, but the wizard in question always seemed to vanish just before she got to the scene. After awhile she decided that she would be able to focus no longer if she didn't get up and do something. Right at that moment, however, a purple sheaf of paper zoomed into her cubicle and landed upon her desk. She unfolded it and read the memo, which informed her that there was to be a meeting between all the Aurors at nine o'clock. She glanced at her watch: Eight-thirty. Supposing that she could wait a half hour longer, she resumed her mind-dulling examination of the case.

Nine o'clock arrived in a stampede of Aurors rushing gratefully from their work to go to the meeting room, grateful for the break. For even though Harry's speeches were generally boring, at least a room full of people provided interesting things to observe, unlike being stuck in a cubicle for ten hours a day (not including the hour long lunch break).

Like the rest of them, Ginny jumped from behind her desk and hurried to join the meeting. In her rush to get through the doorway she accidentally pushed past Malfoy, shoving him back against the door. "After you, Weasley," he muttered tetchily.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't see you," she said only slightly apologetically as she moved to take her seat at the table.

"About what?" he sneered as he moved into the seat beside her. "We all know you just had to hurry and see your precious Potter."

"You know full well that Harry and I have broken up, Malfoy," she said, staring him resolutely in the face. Harry she may have been forced to relent to, but not Malfoy. If he wanted a challenge, he certainly could have one because she was not at all in the mood to back down.

"Whatever you say, Weasley," he replied, shaking his head in apparent skepticism, though his tone didn't seem to have the usual malice in it. It almost seemed as though he was being an arse from habit rather than an actual desire to do so.

Ginny opened her mouth to make a retort, but before she could, Harry called the meeting to a start.

"Alright, everyone?" Harry said, and was met by nods around the room. "We've got a bit to discuss here today…"

He droned on, and on, and on. Ginny found herself wishing that she was back in her cubicle rather than sitting here listening to Harry. It seemed to Ginny that he really did love being the center of attention, the way he was going on, mindless of the dozing occupants of the room. Malfoy (along with the majority of the room) seemed to be thinking the same thing. His head was up and he had the appearance of paying attention, but Ginny noticed that his eyes were glazed over, and he was obviously not listening to a damned word that came out of Harry's mouth.

"Staring, Weasley?" Draco asked without actually turning to look at her, the trademark Malfoy smirk inset upon his lips.

Ginny threw him a reproachful look. "You wish," she said disdainfully, turning back to pretending to listen to Harry drone on about how even though Voldemort was gone, there was still great work to be done for the wellbeing of the wizarding world and the protection of its people and blah, blah, blah. Ginny stared absentmindedly at Harry for a moment. A part of her still loved him, and a part of her always would, she knew. But it wasn't romantic love; no, she had realized that a bit too late, thinking that her infatuation was love. She had been young and naive, and Harry had been her childhood crush. But her love for Harry was not the kind of love he was looking for, not the kind of love that would allow them to get married and live together and have a family together. She simply could not offer him that sort of love. Not Harry, no. She longed for the day when he could put it in the past so that they could go back to how things used to be, before they had started seeing each other. So they could go back to being friends. But he seemed adamant about not letting it go, leaving her so that he could wallow in his bitterness while assigning her pointless cases that were far below her ability.

Finally Harry declared the meeting over at around ten o'clock. He told them they could have a ten minute coffee break before returning to work, an opportunity that Ginny seized gladly as she stood up to leave. As she was doing so, however, she noticed that the wonder of Harry's speeches seemed to have literally put Malfoy to sleep. The side of his head was being supported by his hand where his elbow was propped up on the surface of the desk. Ginny grinned, slapping him upside the head with her folder. His grey eyes instantly snapped open as his elbow slipped, causing his head to nearly fall forward on the desk.

"What the hell, Weasley," he hissed angrily, composing himself hastily.

"Well good morning, sunshine," she replied, smiling brightly at him. "Come on, Harry said we could have a ten minute coffee break, which you might want to take advantage of rather than have Harry find you sleeping."

"Oh, yes," he muttered sarcastically. "Wouldn't want to upset Scarhead."

They were the only ones left in the meeting room now, everyone else having already left to chug down a cup of the pitiful office coffee.

"Why do you work for him if you hate him so much?" Ginny asked questioningly. Malfoy ran a long-fingered hand through his platinum hair before replying, "Long story, Weasley, and not one that I consider to be any of your business."

"Right," Ginny said. "I was just asking, sorry. But now I'm going for coffee, are you coming or should I tell Harry that it's your naptime?"

"Yeah, I suppose I need it," he said, standing from his chair and yawning. He had gotten quite tall since Hogwarts, now standing above Ginny at what she guessed to be at least six feet tall, if not more. His long silvery hair was mussed on one side from where he had slept, but his robes were as pristine as ever. He headed to the door, but stopped before going through it.

"Coming?" he asked.

"Oh," Ginny said smirking. "I wasn't aware that you needed an escort."

Malfoy laughed. "Right, Weasley," he said, but Ginny was amazed to hear that her surname hadn't been spat out with his usual venom. She cocked her eyebrow suspiciously but followed him out the door toward the increasingly longer line that led to the Auror department's sole coffee maker.

Draco Malfoy sat back at his desk, a Styrofoam cup of heavily creamed and sugared coffee in hand. He hesitantly took a sip of it, bracing himself for the horrible taste. He was not disappointed; it was repulsive. But he took another drink anyway, figuring that it was better than nothing, before setting the cup down on a clear space on his desk. He could hear slightly raised voices coming from the cubicle next to his, so he leaned his head closer to the wall of his cubicle, pressing his ear flat against it so he could hear what was being said, and by whom. He was somewhat surprised to hear the Weaselette's voice, obstinacy clear in her tone. He hadn't even realized that she had the cubicle next to him. The second voice was more expected, but it still made Draco roll his eyes. "Pothead," he thought to himself. "What a surprise."

Potter was currently saying something along the lines of, "If you want better cases, Ginny, you'll just have to work yourself up like everyone else." Draco could just imagine the self-satisfied look on Potter's face as he said this.

"Work myself up?" Weasley hissed. "I've captured three Death Eaters, Harry, _three!_ I think I've more than proven myself!"

"Well, I'm afraid that's for me to decide, not you," Potter replied haughtily.

"Harry, why can't you just be reasonable? You know I can do it. I'm absolutely bored out of my mind having to do cases like this!"

"Out of your mind?" Potter spat at her. "Now you know how I've been for quite some time now."

Ginny went to make some retort, perhaps, but at that moment Draco, having taken pity on the youngest Weasley, exited his cubicle and went to stand at the doorway of Ginny's. "Excuse me, _Mr. Potter," _Draco said, hoping to throw Harry off with the use of the term "Mr." He succeeded. Potter turned quickly to face him, seemingly forgetting all about the argument with Weasley.

"Yes, Malfoy?" Potter asked somewhat coldly, flattening his bangs habitually to cover the foul scar on his forehead.

"Can I see you for a moment? I have a question over the Baggins case."

"Right," Potter replied distractedly. "Yeah, I reckon."

As Harry moved past Draco out the door, Draco shot Ginny a look that plainly said "you owe me". She gave him a confused look, quickly followed by a grateful half-smile. Draco then quickly moved into his cubicle and opened the Baggins file on his desk to ask Potter about it, even though he knew it by heart and was having absolutely no trouble with it. In fact, it was pretty much wrapped up.

"Alright, Malfoy, what did you need help with?" Potter asked.

Draco smirked to himself. This Potter obviously wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. A _Malfoy, _needing help from the likes of _Potter_? Yeah, right.

After a couple more hours of boredom, it was time for lunch. Ginny generally went out for lunch, but today she was broke, yesterday having been the day to pay for the rent on her apartment. So she walked to the Ministry cafeteria, choosing the simple meal of fish and chips from among the food. She moved to an empty table to sit down and eat her meal in silence, longing for the next four hours of work to pass by quickly. She wanted to go home and settle herself down on the couch with a good book and a hot cup of coffee. She wouldn't have to worry about Harry, about work, about anything for two whole days. Today was Friday, and the one advantage to being on low-profile cases was that she got the full weekend off. She supposed she had Harry to thank for that.

She understood why Harry was being so difficult, she honestly did. But she hadn't expected it at first, and if she had expected it she wouldn't have expected it to still be going on nearly two years later. When she had first broken it off with him, he had been quite understanding. She could see in his bright green eyes how heartbroken he was, heartbroken to the point that Ginny had cried all that night as well, knowing how much she had hurt him. But he'd not pressured her or tried to make her feel guilty at that point. All he had done was hugged her and told her he loved her one last time before apparating to Godric's Hollow to visit his parent's grave and be alone. He had even given them both the week off so that they wouldn't have to see each other at work for a week. Time enough for them both to compose themselves. But when she had returned, she found a hard and bitter Harry waiting for her. It killed her to see him like this, knowing that he only did it because he still loved her.

She was startled from her reflections by someone poking her shoulder quite annoyingly. She spun around to find out who was doing the incessant poking, her hair whipping behind her like a comet's tail. It was Malfoy. She rolled her eyes.

"Merlin you're annoying," she said exasperatedly. "Can I help you?"

"Touchy," he replied smirking. "I was just wondering if you minded if I sat here. Everywhere else is full."

"And you're actually asking my permission?"

"Believe it or not, Weasley, even Malfoys are polite," he snapped. "And besides, you owe me. I saved your arse back there with Potter."

"Yes, and thank you for that," she replied, scowling at the memory. She indicated for him to sit in the seat across from her. He sat down, picking unenthusiastically at his food.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" Ginny said as she watched him.

"Yeah," Draco replied, but then added sneeringly: "Kind of reminds you of your mother's food, eh, Weasley?"

Instead of getting angry and coming up with some insulting retort to throw back at him, Ginny said, "Come on, Malfoy, give it a break. Your tendency to be a complete and total arse may have been somewhat acceptable in Hogwarts, but we're adults now. Grow up."

Malfoy gave her a surprised look, and Ginny thought she saw a flush rise to his pale face. He sighed loudly and said, "You're right, Weasley. Sorry."

Ginny looked up at him guardedly, but her shock was written all over her face. Had he actually just acknowledge that she was right? Moreover, did he actually just apologize to her?

"So what's going on, Malfoy?" Ginny asked bluntly.

"What do you mean?" he replied slowly, tucking in to his food with vigor.

"You just...never mind."

He cocked a pale eyebrow at her. "Believe it or not, Weasley, I'm not the same arrogant prick you went to Hogwarts with. I have grown up a bit since then."

Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrow at him. "So you're telling me that the whole Pureblood I'm-a-Malfoy-so-I'm-better-than-you thing has passed?"

He chuckled lightly. "Don't get carried away, Weasley," he said. But he said it with a joking tone to his deep voice, which Ginny realized.

"So why did you decide to become an Auror," Ginny asked after a few moments of silence.

Draco shrugged. "I thought it fitting."

"Fitting?" Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes. "How so?"

"To make up for my father's grandiose mistakes, I suppose," he said vaguely, his eyes darkening as he spoke the word "father". But his tone left her no room to question him further. Ginny had wondered why he'd even been talking to her. It had been common knowledge in the Auror Department – indeed, everywhere in wizarding Britain, thanks to the Daily Prophet – that she had been the one to arrest Malfoy Sr., Draco's father. They had even thrown a celebration in the office, giving everyone the day off work to laugh and render themselves drunk from the large amounts of Fire whiskey and iced vodka that had been provided. She remembered that Harry had run to her, swept her up in his arms and kissed her in front of the whole office. It had been her first big arrest. Although she had mainly focused on Harry that day, upon reflection she realized that Malfoy had not even shown up to work that day. She had thought then that this was because he was at home sulking, but now she thought that perhaps this was simply because he hadn't wanted his presence to make the celebration awkward.

But Ginny didn't mention this. She instead turned the conversation toward lighter subjects. She learned that Malfoy was living in an apartment only a few blocks from her own in Bristol, and that he, too, was a coffee addict. They had an unspoken agreement not to talk about anything from their pasts at Hogwarts. Instead they talked mostly about work, and eventually, they spoke of Harry.

"So why'd you break up with him?" Draco asked interestedly. "I mean, he's the great Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, the savior of the wizarding world and all that. So why would you want to break up with him?"

"I didn't love him," Ginny said simply. "But he just doesn't seem able or willing to accept that."

"He gives you a hard time, then?"

"You saw him," Ginny replied haltingly, and Draco took that as his cue to say no more on the subject. He could tell that it really pissed her off, though. Her hands had clenched into fists and her mocha eyes had flashed. She was the typical stubborn redhead, Draco could tell, and he could see that the way she had to stand down to Harry enraged her. For whatever reason, it enraged Draco himself that Potter could treat her that way. As heartless had some had claimed Draco to be in the past, he would never try to mess up someone else's career based solely upon personal reasons.

"So," Draco said to break the silence. "Where do you usually go for lunch if not here?"

"Oh," Ginny said, realizing then that her hands were balled into fists. "This little café up the street. Le Café Matin. Ever been there?"

"No," he said. "Is it any good?"

"The coffee is to die for," Ginny replied.

"I'll have to try it sometime," he said thoughtfully.

"I definitely recommend it," Ginny said. "The cinnamon lattes are amazing."

"Cinnamon, eh? Typical for a redhead."

Ginny laughed. It was true enough.

After lunch Draco returned to his cubicle. He had just finished everything for Baggins case other than actually apprehending Cornell Baggins, which was not his job to do anyway. That, now that he had all the needed information, would fall to one of the higher Aurors. He was thinking about checking out early. He had some errands to run today that he couldn't do tomorrow, due to the fact that he was supposed to be meeting up with Blaise and Pansy to do some shopping. He reflected back over his conversation with the Weasley girl. He was surprised to find that he had actually enjoyed their talk. She seemed to have a sense of humor, and she also seemed to have some intelligence under that red hair, even if she was a Weasley.

He quickly reprimanded himself for adding in that last thought. Those were his father's words, and he most certainly was not his father, whatever mistakes had been made on his part in the past.

Finally the clock struck five. Sighing in relief, Ginny gathered up her things so that she could head home and fulfill her daily fantasy of being alone on the couch with a book and some coffee. Yes, her life was truly pathetic.

As she made to head out the door, a voice called her back.

"Oi, Ginny!"

It was Harry. He looked flushed and slightly out of breath as he ran toward her.

"If you want me to stay longer to do some pointless assignment, Harry, I'm afraid I can't. I've got plans," Ginny said, automatically flying into defensive mode.

"No, it's not that," Harry said. He seemed embarrassed. He kept alternating between ruffling his hair and fumbling with the hem of his sleeve. She knew him, and knew that this was how he acted when he was nervous.

"What's going on, Harry?" she asked suspiciously.

"I just wanted to…say I'm sorry," he muttered incomprehensibly.

"What was that?" Ginny asked confusedly.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking up at her for the first time. "I was just thinking about…things…and I realize now that I've been being a bit unfair around here."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Ginny replied slowly, but she was interested to see where this was headed.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that I've moved you back up. I've passed the Dorrin case on to one of the new inductees. I've reassigned you to the Carrow case. You'll have the file on Monday."

"The Carrow case? Merlin, Harry, are you kidding me?" Alecto Carrow was one of the last four Death Eaters out there; being assigned to this case could be her chance to prove herself yet again. She leapt forward and enclosed Harry in a huge bear hug, to which he uncomfortably responded two with a couple of pats to her back.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, smoothing down her robes in front, though her face was flushed red with an almost childish excitement. "You won't be disappointed."

"I know I won't," he said, staring at the floor rather than at her. "I'll see you Monday."


	2. Frivolty and Respite

Saturday morning came and went, unknown to Ginny who was still asleep on her best friend's couch. After returning to her own apartment from work, Ginny had decided to abandon her previous plans of curling up on the couch alone all night. Instead she had flooed to visit her best friend since Hogwarts, an ex-Ravenclaw named Linda Callahan, to tell her the good news. Linda had been so happy to see that Ginny seemed to have finally gotten out of the rut she had been in since her and Harry's breakup that they had ended up breaking out a bottle of Pinot Giorgio to celebrate. Once they had drunk their way through that, they found a bottle of Fire whiskey that had been in the cabinet for Merlin only knew how long. The ultimate result was that both girls had gotten so completely and utterly trashed that Ginny did not think she could apparate home without Splinching herself in at least eight different parts, so she had ended up passing out on the couch.

The midday sun shone brightly through the open curtains of the window right behind the couch, driving its blazing light right through Ginny's closed eyelids and into her aching head, causing her to wince in pain. She felt like an angry Blast-Ended Skrewt was running rampant inside her skull. She sat up, and the throbbing in her head immediately worsened.

"Merlin," she muttered to herself, rubbing her eyes. She needed coffee. She stalked into the kitchen, where Linda was already wide awake and reading an issue of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Well, hello Sleeping Beauty," Linda said as Ginny plopped herself ungracefully into one of the chairs at the dining room table. "You look terrible."

"And you don't," Ginny muttered grumpily. "Why?"

"Hangover Draught," Linda said simply, her hazel eyes twinkling impishly. "I always keep a stock of it handy. I'll mix some in with your coffee; you look like you could use both."

"Thanks," Ginny said gratefully as Linda handed her a large cup full to the brim of coffee. It had an odd sort of smell to it, Ginny noticed, but that must simply be the Hangover Draught. But she honestly didn't care what it smelled and/or tasted like as long as it made her head stop pounding so badly.

"So," Linda said, setting down the _Prophet_. "Any plans for today?"

"Not really," Ginny snorted. "You're the only one who seems to put up with me."

Linda laughed. "Yeah, for whatever reason."

Ginny mock glared at her. "Gee, thanks. I love you too."

"So were you planning to just hang out at home alone all day today or would you like some company?"

"Sure," Ginny replied. "That'd be great. Do you mind if I took a shower first, though? I can practically feel the liquor streaming out of my pores."

"Go ahead," Linda said. "You know where everything is. You can borrow some of my clothes if you'd like."

Ginny emerged from the shower some forty-minutes later, dressed in a pair of slim-fitting jeans and a T-shirt lent to her by Linda. "So what did you have in mind?" Ginny asked, as Linda scooted over on the couch to make room for her.

"I dunno," Linda replied shrugging. "I was thinking we could go somewhere for lunch and do some shopping?"

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "I need to buy some new clothes, anyway. I haven't even gone shopping since Harry and I broke up."

"Well," Linda said. "I'm glad you're finally venturing back out into the world, Gin."

"Me too," Ginny said laughing. "It's been two years, but I think things are finally getting better."

"I hope so," Linda said sincerely. "Some of us actually have missed you, you know, even if we don't know why."

Ginny didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, but she decided she didn't really care. Linda was right; it had been quite awhile since she'd even wanted the company of others. Harry's quick transition from boyfriend to asshole ensured that. She hardly ever went to visit her mom anymore, either, Ginny remember with a stab of guilt. That would definitely be in order; besides, if nothing else, she missed her mum's cooking.

Plans made, Linda and Ginny decided to go to apparate to London. There they could find a nice little restaurant to have lunch at, and then they could go to one of the many stores in the hopes of replenishing Ginny's rather dismal wardrobe. So they first stopped by Diagon Alley so that Ginny could withdraw some money from her vault at Gringotts, and then left to accomplish their all-important scheme of shopping.

Nearly two weeks had passed since Harry first moved Ginny onto the Carrow case. She had made quite a bit of progress on it, and figured that it wouldn't be long before he too was apprehended. How he had managed to stay out of the Ministry's clutches for this long evaded Ginny: Alecto Carrow was not exactly known for his cleverness.

Harry's attitude toward Ginny seemed to have improved considerably. They weren't anywhere close to being "best friends" or anything, but at least he wasn't being such a prick. He was being quite civil to her, actually. At that moment Harry stuck his head in the doorway of her cubicle. "It's nearly noon," he said. "You can go ahead for lunch now."

"Oh," Ginny said distractedly. She had been absorbed in reviewing her files, but at the mention of lunch she snapped her head up. Was it really noon already? "Thanks, Harry."

"Listen, Ginny," Harry said. "I was wondering if you wanted to go grab lunch with me, actually." At the look on her face he blushed and added, "Not as a date or anything, Gin, I didn't mean it like that…"

Ginny continued to look at him strangely. Was this why he had suddenly started being so nice to her? To try to get her back? "I'm sorry, Harry, I can't," Ginny said slowly. "I've already got plans." This wasn't strictly a lie; she had indeed planned on stopping by le Café Matin. She hadn't been there in around a week, and she was sorely missing her cinnamon latte fix.

"Right," Harry said. He seemed quite flustered, alternating from foot to foot as though now he was quite keen to leave. "I'll, er, see you after lunch."

"Alright," Ginny replied, keeping her eyes glued to her folder until he left. She then hurriedly used her wand to put the proper papers in the proper files and pulled her Auror robes over her head due to the fact that le Café Matin was a muggle café, and being seen in robes might be rather awkward.

She apparated into the alley that ran alongside the café before hurriedly walking toward the main street and turning in to the cozy little café. A plump middle-aged woman stood behind the counter, and she greeted Ginny by name when she got to the front of the line.

"Well there's our favorite customer!" she exclaimed. "We've been missing you, Ginevra, where've you been, dear?"

"Oh, just work as usual," Ginny replied with a weary smile. The woman, who was called May, smiled knowingly.

"So what'll it be? The usual, I presume?"

Ginny nodded, and within two minutes a latte fragrant with the aroma of cinnamon and a croissant were being pressed into her hands. She paid May with the muggle money she'd exchanged at Gringotts for the sole purpose of coming here and went to sit at her usual table near the back wall. The only problem was that it was already occupied.

The intruder looked familiar, but she couldn't really tell in the dim lighting. It wasn't until she was right behind him that she knew for sure. Malfoy.

"Took my advice, I see," Ginny said as she sat at the table across the aisle from his. "And you took my table as well."

"I didn't see your name on it, Weasley," Malfoy replied smirking as he took a sip of his coffee.

Ginny grinned and inconspicuously pulled her wand out of her bag, pointing it from under the table and cast a silent spell. The sip of coffee Malfoy had just taken now came spitting back out: now across the table were the words "Property of Ginevra Weasley".

He wiped the coffee from his face and the table with a napkin. "Well aren't we hilarious," he said. "But I suppose that since I have been offered incontrovertible proof that this _is _your table, you can sit here too."

"How generous of you," Ginny replied as she undid the spell so that the words vanished. "Who says I want to sit with you?"

"Fine," Draco said haughtily. "And here I was actually trying to be polite."

"Relax, Malfoy," Ginny said, gathering up her things to join him at _her _table. "Not everyone's out to get you, you know."

"Whatever you say, Weasley," he replied vaguely.

They drank their coffee in silence for awhile, until Ginny said: "Is it as good as I claimed it was?"

"I suppose even Weasleys are right sometimes," Malfoy conceded.

"You could just say yes," Ginny said. "Are you always this difficult?"

Draco laughed. "So they tell me. But speaking of difficult, how's Pothead – I mean _Potter_ – been lately? Still have a wand stuck up his arse?"

"Actually," Ginny said with a grin. "Somebody must have removed said wand for him. He assigned me to the Carrow case."

"The Carrow case?" Draco said enviously. "That bastard. I wanted that case, although I suppose my reasons were more personal."

Ginny laughed. A Malfoy being jealous of a Weasley. How ironic.

They talked a bit more over things of little consequence: work, friends, and even their Hogwarts days, although anything pertaining to Draco's sixth year (Ginny's fifth) was left out of the conversation. Before Ginny had realized it, the hour was nearly gone and it was time for them both to return to work, an event that Ginny hadn't actually dreaded for the past two weeks. They apparated back to the Ministry and returned to their respective cubicles, where the delectable cinnamon lattes had prepared her to resume her attack of the Carrow file.

Draco gathered his files from his desk and moved swiftly out of his cubicle, thankful that it was finally time to go home. He hadn't been able to focus much on his work since he had gotten back from le Café Matin. He had been raking through his thoughts to try to figure out why he had actually been talking to the Weaselette: This made two full conversations between them in the past two weeks. It was unnatural for Draco to want to talk to anyone about anything at all unless he had full assurance of their trustworthiness. He knew nothing about Weasley, and yet he didn't mind talking to her too terribly much. It was undoubtedly strange. But whether it meant talking to Weasley or not, he was going back to le Café Matin. She had been right - the coffee was damn good.

On his way out he passed by Potter's office. The door was open, and he appeared to be intently reviewing a file, but at second glance Draco saw that it was not, in fact, a file, but a picture. A picture that Draco noticed was extremely crumpled as though Potter had spent many a day clutching it in his hand and staring at it. But what really provoked Draco's interest was the look in Potter's eyes as he practically bored holes in it. It was a look Draco knew well: Regret.

Potter looked up from the picture to notice Draco staring at him, and instantly the look in his eyes changed from one of regret to one of annoyance.

"Can I help you, Malfoy?" Potter asked, clearly irritated at being disturbed as he hastily shoved the photo unceremoniously into a desk drawer.

Draco smirked. "I just wanted to turn in the Baggins case," he said.

"You've finished it?" Harry asked, half approvingly, half doubtfully.

"Obviously," Draco said rolling his eyes. "Otherwise I don't think I'd be turning it in."

"Well, er, good work," Potter replied grabbing the folder out of Draco's hand before turning back into his office and slamming the door shut behind him.

Draco shook his head exasperatedly. Potter obviously had his knickers tangled up about something. But Draco didn't really care enough to reflect over it, so he shrugged his shoulders and left the Ministry, longing to get back to his apartment, take a nice hot shower, and sit out on the balcony with a glass of wine. Perhaps he would visit his mother tomorrow night and offer her some company then, but tonight he was too tired. But as he apparated to the front door of his apartment and unlocked the door, he found a surprise waiting there for him: Blaise and Pansy were both sitting on his couch, and beside them were two huge parcels, one wrapped in shimmering black paper that changed color like oil on water, and the other wrapped in silky green with snakes slithering around the corners of the box.

"What the hell – "he said, trying to think of what the occasion could possibly be.

Blaise cocked an eyebrow at Draco's apparent lack of memory before saying, "Happy birthday, mate! Twenty-four years old; find any grey hair yet?"

Pansy grinned widely at him, flipping her short, dark hair out of her face. "Open mine first, Draco. I actually took the time to pick out something, unlike our less thoughtful friend, here."

Draco was still standing in the doorway, mouth agape, and mind reeling. They were right. Today _was _his birthday; how in Merlin's name had he forgotten his own birthday? It was August 11th, his twenty-fourth birthday. All he'd been concerned with lately was work. So concerned, apparently, that his own birthday had slipped his mind. Talk about being a workaholic…

"Well?" Pansy said, rising gracefully from the couch to slip her hand inside his and pull him over to the couch. "Are you going to open them?"

"Oh," Draco said, shaking his head to clear it. "Right. I just wasn't expecting this…"

Pansy laughed. "Just come on and open them. Our reservations are at seven, and we don't want to be late."

"Reservations?" Draco repeated as he sat by Blaise on the couch. Pansy handed him the black parcel. "Come on, just open the damned present," she said impatiently.

Draco carefully unwrapped the paper, opening up the box. Nestled inside it were an expensive looking set of black dress robes ("Those are for when we go out tonight," said Pansy.), a bottle of aged elf-made wine, and a title-less book that looked ancient.

"I got the book from an antique collector," Pansy explained. "It cost me a fortune. Apparently all you have to do is leaf through the pages and imagine a subject and it'll appear in the book."

"Wow," he said gratefully. "Thank you, Pansy, I love them." He got up and placed the bottle of wine in his wine cabinet to save for another night and returned to his place on the couch, gingerly removing the book from its box. Blaise grabbed it out of his hands before he could even open it. Blaise closed his eyes, apparently deep in thought, and leafed through the pages. Instantly a title appeared on the cover that read, _On the Attributes of the Youngest Heir of Zabini_.

"Narcissist," Draco muttered, grabbing the book out of his hands. Blaise laughed. "Now you have to open mine," he said, shoving the smaller green bundle onto Draco's lap. Draco unwrapped this one too, and inside it were an intricately gold wizard's watch (his old one had been shattered in the last battle at Hogwarts), and a two-hundred galleon gift card for Honeydukes.

"Holy hell, mate," Draco said in astonishment. "What in Merlin's name am I supposed to do with two hundred galleons worth in chocolate?"

"Share it with me, of course," Blaise stated obviously.

Pansy slapped him good-naturedly upside the head. Blaise pouted at the abuse, but he made no more comments. "Now," Pansy said matter-of-factly. "Draco, go ahead and put on those dress robes. We're going out tonight to celebrate. Blaise and I've already got our clothes with us."

"Are you even going to tell me where we're going?" Draco whined.

"Nope," Blaise said. "You'll see when we get there."

Knowing that there was no sense in arguing with them he grabbed the dress robes and went into his bedroom to get changed. After doing so he examined himself in the full-length mirror. His shoulder-length platinum hair was swept out of his sharply-angled face into a ponytail, and his grey eyes flashed in self-approval as he donned the trademark Malfoy smirk.

After deeming himself suitable enough to go out, Draco swept back into the living room. Blaise was sitting on the couch, already dressed in a set of deep gold dress robes that accentuated his Italian good-looks. Pansy, apparently, had not yet finished getting ready. Blaise rolled his eyes as Draco sat beside him. "Bloody women," he said. "And she's the worst of the lot. Last time we went out it took her three hours just to get ready. _Three hours, and that's with magic!_" He shot Draco a scandalous look.

"You're the one dating her, mate," Draco said smirking. "And you never seem to complain after she's done when you're drooling all over the floor."

"I do not," Blaise said, glowering at Draco. At that moment, however, Pansy exited the bathroom clad in a long burgundy dress that shimmered every time she took a step. Her dark hair had been made (doubtlessly by magic) to be longer, and was swept up into a complicated looking up-do. Her dark eyes shone brightly, and her lips were glossed over with deep red lipstick. Blaise immediately stood up, instantly the gentleman to offer Pansy his arm and comment upon how beautiful she looked. Draco rolled his eyes. Blaise was completely and utterly smitten with Pansy, however much he might complain about how long it took her to get ready. In fact, Draco would probably have to scourgify all the saliva from his carpet when he got back.

"Are we ready?" Pansy asked smoothly, and Draco noticed the self-satisfied look in her expression. He would probably have that same look in his own eyes, Draco thought with a snigger, if he had actually managed to render Blaise speechless. "You'll have to Side-Along Apparate with Blaise, Draco," Pansy said. "Seeing as you've no idea where we're going and we don't intend to tell you just yet."

"If I must," Draco said. He gripped Blaise's arm and they all three turned on the spot, reappearing with a pop in front of an unfamiliar, pricey-looking restaurant. Seeing as it was called "La Rime du Sphinx" and the restaurant itself, as well as the people clothed in wizard's dress robes entering in it, was apparently unseen to the passersby, Draco could only assume that it was a wizarding restaurant. The fact that the Sphinx on the sign was actually pacing up and down in front of the flashing letters of the restaurant's name looking unnaturally real and mobile also was a pretty good hint.

"Paris," Draco said grinning as he took in the sights of his favorite city. "Who thought this up? Let me guess, Pansy?"

"Of course," Pansy said with a grin as Blaise moved ahead of her to chivalrously open the door for her. "Now come on, our table's waiting."

A waiter was instantly there to greet them. "_Dernier nom?"_ he said somberly after he had taken their cloaks.

"Parkinson," Pansy replied smoothly.

"Ahh, of course, Mademoiselle," he said, switching from French to English. "Right this way."

He turned and led them stiffly toward the back of the restaurant, weaving through the tables without even looking down. Once they were seated, Draco cast a critical eye about the restaurant. The tables were covered in unicorn-white tablecloths, and the only lighting was provided by magically-suspended chandeliers over various points in the room. Tiny fairies twittered in their sweet, high-pitched voices near the ceiling, weaving fluidly in a complicated dance below a domed section of the roof that, rather like the ceiling at Hogwarts, appeared to be bewitched to show the sky outside. Upon the table was an intricate looking centerpiece that appeared to be Goblin made. Carvings of hippogriffs, griffins, unicorns, and other various magical creatures were carved into the solid wood floors. With a small pop, a menu appeared in front of each of them.

Draco scanned through it. The specialty of the house was a Coq a Vin entrée, followed by a Blanquette de Veau, to be summed up with a delectable Tarte Tatin. They all decided that they would choose this, and as soon as they reached this agreement a house elf instantly appeared at their table bearing their chosen meal.

"Good service," Blaise commented, one eyebrow cocked in surprise as the house elf gave them their respective plates, as well as a bottle of Chardonnay and three glasses. The house elf bowed gravely to each of them in turn and vanished with a pop, leaving them to eat their meal.

More than an hour later they stood on a terrace of the restaurant overlooking a sweeping green lawn dotted with shimmering lights, each of them stuffed to bursting with the scrumptious French cuisine provided by La Rime du Sphinx. Draco held a cup of coffee in hand, which he noted hazily was not quite as good as the coffee at le Café Matin. This observation reminded him of the Weasley girl. He smiled for a moment as he remembered her chime-like laughter echoing through the small café in London. His thoughts were interrupted, however, as Pansy pulled a silver cigarette case from a purse and graciously offered one to him and Blaise each before taking one herself to place in a long stem.

He set down his empty coffee cup (where it instantly vanished and was replaced with a full one) as he thanked Pansy and lit the cigarette, glad for the calm of the night. It had been awhile since he'd been out anywhere, being so consumed in working as he was. He used to love going out like this.

"A knut for your thoughts?" Pansy asked, although the smug look on her face told him that she already knew what he was thinking.

Draco chuckled. "Alright, alright," he said. "You guys are amazing."

"You're damn right we are," Blaise replied in a disgruntled tone. "Especially since I'm the one paying for all this." Draco could tell, however, that despite Blaise's quips, they had all enjoyed themselves.

Draco finished smoking his cigarette and put it out in an ashtray that had magically appeared beside him in the past five minutes. This place really was good.

"I've got to get back home, though," he said with a sigh. "I've got to be at work bright and early tomorrow."

"We know," Pansy replied, and then added sternly: "But you'd better visit your mother tomorrow, or she'll be likely to have all of our heads. She told us we could have you tonight because she knew we probably wouldn't have a chance over the weekend, but tomorrow she'll be expecting her little Drakie."

"I know," Draco replied, grimacing at the use of his mother's old nickname for him. "I'll send her an owl tonight to let her know I'm coming."

Apparently satisfied, Pansy then looked to Blaise, who answered her look with an incline of his dark head. Then, simultaneously the three apparated back to Draco's apartment where Draco bid them good night with the promise that he'd pull himself away from his work for long enough to go out again some night.

He entered his apartment and turned on the lights with his wand. After throwing the boxes and wrapping paper left from Blaise's and Pansy's presents haphazardly on the floor, he lay contentedly upon the couch, stretching his long legs over the armrest. He allowed his mind to wander for a bit, first reflecting over his night out with Blaise and Pansy, and from there to more heady subjects that had been shut out of his mind for a long time. Quite a long time.

He remembered, with a flash of emotion that was hard to define, the capture of his father. Lucius had been hiding out on an island in the Caribbean owned by the Malfoys that they had once used as a vacation spot. They hadn't travelled there in years, not since Draco had been but a child. Apparently after Draco had reached the age of four Lucius had decided that frivolity and vacations were not for a Malfoy heir, and that from then on Draco would spend all of his time learning and studying so that his Malfoy superiority would be obvious as soon as he entered Hogwarts. In fact, just to make sure that Draco never forgot his lessons, Lucius tended to follow up their study sessions with regular beatings.

But Lucius had returned to the island, deeming it the perfect place to avoid capture. However, despite the cornucopia of magical wards placed around the island, Lucius had not been able to escape being apprehended. And by a Weasley, no doubt! How exactly she had managed to do it, Draco did not know. As malevolent as Lucius may have been, he was also clever, and not at all a careless man. Yet somehow, someway, she had done it. Draco thought idly that that may be why he had talked to her. She had removed his despicable father from burdening the shoulders of both Draco and, more importantly, his mother. The actions of his father had plagued Narcissa so much that it had literally caused her to fall ill. Draco had had to care for her almost constantly in the years before his father's imprisonment. In the past couple years, though, Narcissa had gradually improved, much to Draco's relief. His mother was the only _real _family he'd ever had.

Draco's mind whirled vaguely from his thoughts as the day's exhaustion finally claimed him, pulling him effortlessly into sleep like the last leaf spiraling downward from a tree in autumn. He dreamed dreams that were strangely devoid of images, and when he woke up to the sound of his alarm the next morning, all he could distinguish from them was the dimly familiar smell of freshly ground cinnamon.


End file.
